At Your Side
by FFAMasquerade2005
Summary: A young woman goes back in time to Paris, can she save Eriks Soul before it becomes to late? or will she become his prey? Possibly EOW, EC
1. Beginnings

**Disclaimer/Authors Note**

**I DON'T OWN POTO ONLY ANDREW LLOYD WEBBER, GASTON LEROUX, AND SUSAN KAY, DO SO DON'T SUE. AGAIN I ALSO DON'T OWN BRENNA, SHE IS BASED LOOSELY OFF OF NORA ROBERTS CHARACTER FROM _JEWELS OF THE SUN, TEARS OF THE MOON, HEART OF THE SEA_**

(Ok the reason I have scenes from 2005 is because I want to show and kind of explain why she will be able to get into either the Philharmonic Orchestra, or the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra…since they only accept the best of the best. Also to show that she does have talent and is able to get into the Opera's Orchestra **with out** the help of the Phantom (Erik). I also want to apologize if some of the Paragraphs are messed up, since Fan fiction has a tendency to do that. So if you would like you may e-mail me and I'll send the story as it is written in Word. No flames please, if you don't like it don't read it. Constructive Criticism is welcomed, it helps us authors see what we can improve on.

**One more thing** I need a name for my main female character, the name can be of any origin I also need two male names, also of any origin.

* * *

9/4/05**Chapter 1: Beginnings **

**(Paris Opera House 1870)**

"Think of me, think of me fondly when we've said good bye, remember me once in awhile…" The

cast members wish they could come up with some device to drown out or altogether stop that

abhorred noise, yes noise. Now the Prima Donna singer at this time was La Carlotta, and while her

fans would tell you she had the voice of a goddess, Opera Populair members, would disagree, as

would The Phantom Of The Opera, or better known to the public as Opera Ghost.

The Opera Ghost was pretty much in charge of everything no **matter what** people believed. He

always knew what was going on inside the opera house, and knew where everyone inside the opera

house would be at all times. Some called him a stalker; others called him a Ghost, for only a select

few had ever seen the Phantom. But just like you and I the Phantom had a name a life, and a hobby.

The Phantoms name was Erik; yes just plain Erik, no middle name or last name, just Erik. Erik's

hobby, well wasn't what one would normally call a hobby, but since when was Erik ever normal?

His hobby was writing threatening notes, terrorizing people, composing music, and the occasional

murder hear and there. Now when I said Erik was not normal what I meant was that he was a

genius, who lived under the Opera house, and one side of his face some would say was deformed.

He was lonely, and usually depressed, for who could ever be friends with a beast?

Beauty And The Beast by Walt Disney

* * *

**Again, I need a name for my main female character and for a male character...they can be of any orgin. If the name means something ie KimberlyCheif, include that in the suggestion please...**


	2. Heaven Knows

**Disclaimer/Authors Note**

**I DON'T OWN POTO ONLY ANDREW LLOYD WEBBER, GASTON LEROUX, AND SUSAN KAY, DO SO DON'T SUE. AGAIN I ALSO DON'T OWN BRENNA, SHE IS BASED LOOSELY OFF OF NORA ROBERTS CHARACTER FROM _JEWELS OF THE SUN, TEARS OF THE MOON, HEART OF THE SEA_**

(Ok the reason I have scenes from 2005 is because I want to show and kind of explain why she will

be able to get into either the Philharmonic Orchestra, or the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra…since

they only accept the best of the best. Also to show that she does have talent and is able to get into

the Opera's Orchestra **with out** the help of the Phantom (Erik). I also want to apologize if some of

the Paragraphs are messed up, since Fan fiction has a tendency to do that. So if you would like you

may e-mail me and I'll send the story as it is written in Word. No flames please, if you don't like it

don't read it. Constructive Criticism is welcomed, it helps us authors see what we can improve on.

**One more thing** I need a name for my main female character, the name can be of any origin I also

need two male names, also of any origin.

* * *

**Chapter 2: Heaven Knows**

**(2005)**

'Ok breathe, just breathe, you've done this before and you did fine.' I thought to myself as I

stepped into the judge's room, and prepared to play my solo that I had been working on for months

in front of this judge who would seal my fate in the music world.

'Just keep a steady beat, concentrate on the song, you know it by heart.' I reassured my self. I took

a deep breath and started to play my solo, then it was if no one else was there, nothing else

mattered, I was lost in the deep depths of the music. The next thing I knew I was at the end of the

piece I had selected to play.

"Interesting piece you chose, Grand Banks Newfoundland written by Phil Coulter, why did you

choose this piece?"

"I chose this piece because James Galway plays along with Phil Coulter, I guess you could say that

James Galway is my Roll Model. I love the music he plays and I was just intrigued by the way he

played this particular song."

"It was a very nice piece, you have talent, and I hope to see you again at next years Solo and

Ensemble Festival here at Helix High School."

'YEA! I got another Superior rating, maybe I'm better and playing the flute than I thought.' I told

my best friend over the phone. "Maybe I can **some day** be in the Phil Harmonic Orchestra, like

James Galway was."

"I don't know Brenna, that's one of the big time orchestra's, they are very hard to get into, and you

have to be the best of the best. But I think if you really wanted to you could. Well I have to go

because I've got my solo in an hour. Good job Brenna, I'm so proud of you, and see I told you, you

would do fine."

After I hung up the phone I thought to my self, only heaven knows how happy I am right now.


	3. Open Invitation

**Disclaimer/Authors Note**

**I DON'T OWN POTO ONLY ANDREW LLOYD WEBBER, GASTON LEROUX, AND SUSAN KAY, DO SO DON'T SUE. AGAIN I ALSO DON'T OWN BRENNA, SHE IS BASED LOOSELY OFF OF NORA ROBERTS CHARACTER FROM _JEWELS OF THE SUN, TEARS OF THE MOON, HEART OF THE SEA_**

(Ok the reason I have scenes from 2005 is because I want to show and kind of explain why she will

be able to get into either the Philharmonic Orchestra, or the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra…since

they only accept the best of the best. Also to show that she does have talent and is able to get into

the Opera's Orchestra **with out** the help of the Phantom (Erik). I also want to apologize if some of

the Paragraphs are messed up, since Fan fiction has a tendency to do that. So if you would like you

may e-mail me and I'll send the story as it is written in Word. No flames please, if you don't like it

don't read it. Constructive Criticism is welcomed, it helps us authors see what we can improve on.

**One more thing** I need a name for my main female character, the name can be of any origin I also

need two male names, also of any origin.

* * *

9/4/05

**Chapter 3: Open Invitation**

**(1870)**

'Hmm this should shut "La Carlotta" up. Erik Thought to himself, as he stared to cut the ropes that

were holding up a back round drop. '5…4…3…2…. 1 Bulls Eye!' Erik chuckled to himself. He

had hit his mark; Carlotta was down, for now. Hopefully this time she had gotten the message, that

she had long over stayed her welcome.

"Ahhh! He's here the Phantom Of The Opera. He's going to kill us all". Some of the Ballet Rats

screamed in fear.

"Good heavens! Will you show a little class, I would expect this behavior from five year olds, not

young adults."

"Mademoiselle, please! These things do happen."

"Si! These things do happen! Well, until you stop these things from happening, this thing does not

happen!" Carlotta stormed off the stage.

' That girl had an open invitation for trouble, ever since she became the Prima Donna, but did Erik

really need to drop that back round on her? Madame Giry thought to her self.

**(2005)**

"Ladies and Gentlemen we would like to welcome you to the annual Scripps Ranch, Marching

Band Competition, we have out on the field right now El Capitan High School, Marching

Vaqueros, from Lakeside. We remind you that during the performances you remain seated and

quiet, thank you, we shall be starting again here shortly."

"El Capitan High School, The judges are ready"

"Band attend hut!" Our Drum Major shouted to us.

"ECV!" was our reply. You could just feel every body's adrenalin running high as we waited for

the count off, so we could show the other Bands how hard we had been working on this years field

show.

"1.2.1.2" That was it, and we were off. When it came time for our 'Park And Blow' I have never

heard our band put so much emotion into that part it was amazing.

We were done with our field show although it seamed as though we had just stared.

"Brenna, Brenna!" I turned around to see who was calling my name. My friend in the color guard,

holding a marching shoe, it was then I realized that I was walking unevenly, and that shoe was

mine.

"Billy, where did you get that?"

"I saw it fall off during the show, and made a mental note to get it as soon as the show was

done."

"Thanks"

**(Paris Opera House 1870)**

"La Carlotta will be back, won't she?"

"You think so, messieurs? I have a message, sir, from the Opera Ghost."

"God in heaven, you're all obsessed!"

"He merely welcomes you to _his opera_ house and commands you to continue to leave Box Five

empty for his use and reminds you that his salary is due."

"His salary?"

"Monsieur Lefevre paid him twenty thousand francs a month. Perhaps you can afford more, with

the Vicomte de Chagny as your patron."

"Surly there has to be an, an understudy for La Carlotta."

"UNDERSTUDY? There is no understudy for La Carlotta."

"Christine Daae could sing it sir."

"A chorus girl?" Andre asks with disgusts. "Don't be stupid, a lowly chorus girl can't sing this

Aria, this song was written for a women with a talented voice.

* * *

once again i would like to remind you to please review, and send in your names. Please Please send

in names...i want people to be active participants in this story...


	4. The Letter

**Disclaimer/Authors Note**

**I DON'T OWN POTO ONLY ANDREW LLOYD WEBBER, GASTON LEROUX, AND SUSAN KAY, DO SO DON'T SUE. AGAIN I ALSO DON'T OWN BRENNA, SHE IS BASED LOOSELY OFF OF NORA ROBERTS CHARACTER FROM _JEWELS OF THE SUN, TEARS OF THE MOON, HEART OF THE SEA_**

(Ok the reason I have scenes from 2005 is because I want to show and kind of explain why she will

be able to get into either the Philharmonic Orchestra, or the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra…since

they only accept the best of the best. Also to show that she does have talent and is able to get into

the Opera's Orchestra **with out** the help of the Phantom (Erik). I also want to apologize if some of

the Paragraphs are messed up, since Fan fiction has a tendency to do that. So if you would like you

may e-mail me and I'll send the story as it is written in Word. No flames please, if you don't like it

don't read it. Constructive Criticism is welcomed, it helps us authors see what we can improve on.

**One more thing** I need a name for my main female character, the name can be of any origin I also

need two male names, also of any origin.

* * *

9/4/05

**Chapter 4: The Letter**

**(2005)**

This was it, the letter I had been waiting for. Not only would this letter determine the rest of my

life, but my acceptance into the real world of music and musicians. This letter was from the

Philharmonic Orchestra. The Philharmonic Orchestra was one of the best orchestra's in the world,

and they only accepted the best of the best.

Shakily I opened the letter, I quickly skimmed the letter looking for either the words,

"Congratulations you have been accepted" or "We are sorry to inform you but you did not

qualify." A few seconds after I finished reading the letter, I let out a scream, and shouted to no one

in particular "I made it! I made it into the London Philharmonic Orchestra." After I had calmed

down a bit I re-read the letter, to make sure I wasn't dreaming, and noticed that there were dates on

the bottom of the letter; upon further reading, the dates were the days that the London

Philharmonic wanted me to come for an orientation. The orientation was in about a month's time,

included were tickets, some for the plane ride, and the others for the train ride.

**(Paris Opera House 1870)**

Erik was pleased; he had a smug smile upon his face while walking back to his lair. Not only had

he gotten rid of Carlotta, for the time being, _his Angel_ had finally gotten the part she deserved. His

Angel had the most beautiful voice in the world, and he, He, had taught her and had watched her

become what she was now. Yes his day was perfect and nothing could possibly go wrong. But little

did he know that the new patron of the Paris Opera House, and his Angel had a past together and

would soon interfere with his plans for him and _his_ _Angel_. He was also looking forward to tonight,

for tonight was the night he was going to revel himself to his Angel. He had to get everything ready

for her, and that meant he had a little cleaning to do. He also needed to add a few finishing touches

on the manikin of Christine in her wedding dress.

* * *

once again i would like to remind you to please review, and send in your names. Please Please send

in names...i want people to be active participants in this story...


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer/Authors Note**

**I DON'T OWN POTO ONLY ANDREW LLOYD WEBBER, GASTON LEROUX, AND SUSAN KAY, DO SO DON'T SUE. AGAIN I ALSO DON'T OWN BRENNA, SHE IS BASED LOOSELY OFF OF NORA ROBERTS CHARACTER FROM _JEWELS OF THE SUN, TEARS OF THE MOON, HEART OF THE SEA_**

(Ok the reason I have scenes from 2005 is because I want to show and kind of explain why she will

be able to get into either the Philharmonic Orchestra, or the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra…since

they only accept the best of the best. Also to show that she does have talent and is able to get into

the Opera's Orchestra **with out** the help of the Phantom (Erik). I also want to apologize if some of

the Paragraphs are messed up, since Fan fiction has a tendency to do that. So if you would like you

may e-mail me and I'll send the story as it is written in Word. No flames please, if you don't like it

don't read it. Constructive Criticism is welcomed, it helps us authors see what we can improve on.

**One more thing** I need a name for my main female character, the name can be of any origin I also

need two male names, also of any origin.

* * *

9/4/05

**Chapter 5: Obliviously Things Can Get Worse**

**(Paris 1870)**

"What had he done to deserve this? What did he do wrong?" Erik growled in frustration. Every

thing was going so well and then she just had to see what was under that damn mask of his. It had

taken just about all his will power no to snap her pretty little neck in half, because no one who had

pulled off the mask in the past, lived to tell about it. That's why he head told her "Come we must

return those two fools who run my theater will be missing you." For it was partly true, no doubt

they would be searching for her, and he also didn't want to accidentally kill her, while he was in a

foul mood like this one. As soon he had seen Christine off, he went back down to his lair and went

straight to his organ and started to pound on the keys in frustration. He decided that he now needed

a new plan on wooing and marrying her, (I plan on wooing and marrying Belle. Sorry couldn't help

my self, I love Beauty and The Beast) since the old plan was based on her never seeing his horrid

deformed face. She seemed to love his music, and she **had **enjoyed his touch, everything seemed to

come back to his mask that hid his face. He had felt his heart break, when she drew back in fear,

from his gentle touch. Her face, oh he couldn't bear to think of her right now, he needed something

else to take his mind off her before he started to cry. He couldn't cry, he wouldn't cry damn it!

Crying was for womenfolk, (no offence you'll see why he says that later on) children, people who

were weak, and he was not weak, he was **The Phantom Of The Opera**! **Damn it!** **Damn it all to **

**Hell and back again!** he yelled. He proceeded to use many of the curses he knew as he threw and

kicked things about the lair. All of a sudden his foot came in contact with something soft, before

he could figure out what it was, it gave a loud yowl and dug it's teeth and claws into Erik's ankle.

Erik then proceeded to curse up a storm, _again_ this time though in German, as he tried to remove

_his cat_ from his leg. After a few minuets of struggling Ayesha (Erik's Cat) finally let go, and

trotted off to a safe distance and began hissing and yowling at him. It seemed to Erik that his own

Cat was lecturing him, if he hadn't been in pain, he would have found it amusing, but as right now

it was annoying. Erik grumbled walking towards the Cat with a very evil glare, as he mumbled to

him self "Nothing else can possibly go wrong today, can it?" Just as he was not more than a few

inches from the cat he tripped over a rock, and fell head first into the lake, and to add insult to

injury he hit his head on a sharp rock and began to see stars. Obliviously things could get worse for

poor Erik.

* * *

once again i would like to remind you to please review, and send in your names. Please Please send

in names...i want people to be active participants in this story...


	6. Betrayal

**Disclaimer/Authors Note**

**I DON'T OWN POTO ONLY ANDREW LLOYD WEBBER, GASTON LEROUX, AND SUSAN KAY, DO SO DON'T SUE. AGAIN I ALSO DON'T OWN BRENNA, SHE IS BASED LOOSELY OFF OF NORA ROBERTS CHARACTER FROM _JEWELS OF THE SUN, TEARS OF THE MOON, HEART OF THE SEA_**

(Ok the reason I have scenes from 2005 is because I want to show and kind of explain why she will

be able to get into either the Philharmonic Orchestra, or the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra…since

they only accept the best of the best. Also to show that she does have talent and is able to get into

the Opera's Orchestra **with out** the help of the Phantom (Erik). I also want to apologize if some of

the Paragraphs are messed up, since Fan fiction has a tendency to do that. So if you would like you

may e-mail me and I'll send the story as it is written in Word. No flames please, if you don't like it

don't read it. Constructive Criticism is welcomed, it helps us authors see what we can improve on.

**One more thing** I need a name for my main female character, the name can be of any origin I also

need two male names, also of any origin.

* * *

9/05

**Chapter 6: Betrayal**

What exactly had happened down there? Everything had happened so quickly, one thing had lead to

another down there, and **most** of it hand been her fault. He had been a most gracious host, for

instance when she had fainted (who wouldn't after having a mannequin that was the exact replica

of you, in a wedding dress, fall onto you from inside a mirror.), he had put her in a nice bed and

coverd her up with a blanket. He had done nothing but show her kindness, and when she finally was

able to see him, she had repaid him with betrayal. She shuttered at that particular memory of when

she had pulled off His mask. She had never seen anyone's eyes turn completely black, nor had she

witnessed such anger.

When she had pulled off the mask, he had thrown her against a wall (she thought that he could and

would have thrown her further if the wall hadn't been there), in a matter of milliseconds. She had

felt her wrist snap and go numb after she had used her hands to break the fall, but she did not dwell

upon it for long, because at the moment she was truly afraid for her life. If she had had any idea of

what would have happened when she pulled of his mask, she would never had done it.

Christine's thoughts were interrupted when there came a knock upon her door.

"Christine, are you in there?" Came Madame Giry's voice.

"Yes I'm here, you may come in if you wish." Christine replied

"Christine, what happened last night? Did Er- I mean did **He** hurt you?" Madame Giry asked,

concerned about her adopted daughter (not really adopted, but she thinks of her as a daughter)

"I did something that was forbidden—"

"—You pulled off the mask, didn't you?"

"Yes, Madame, I did. But I wish that I never had. His face was so deformed, distorted, it was hardly

a face, and yet I am still drawn to him. Those eyes they were so full of anger, and sadness. Oh,

Madame what have I done? He'll never want to see me or hear form me again. I have to apologize

to him."

"You never answered my second question, did he hurt you?"

"He didn't know what he was doing Madame, **He** didn't mean it, I'm sure of it."

"Where are you hurt?"

"My wrist, I felt it snap, and go numb, when he threw against a wall."

"It is probably broken then, I will go and fetch a doctor for you. And you are to stay here till I return."

'I must talk to Erik about this.' Madame Giry thought to her self.

'Speaking of the Devil' (this is not supposed to be a pun, it was just a saying that I've heard

many times and thought that this would be a good idea, once again I repeat this is not a pun)

"Erik I know your there, so please come out I need to discuss with you about Mademoiselle

Daee."

"What about her?" Erik asked icily.

"Well thanks to you and your temper she has a broken wrist—"

"Serves her right, what right did she have to—"

"Pull off your mask? She didn't. But she feels very bad about what she did. She does wish to

apologize to you, but she isn't sure what the best approach is."

"Tell her there is no need to apologize for I care not to hear from her again, the Little Prying

Pandora, the Little Demon that she is! Let her wallow in her misery, she deserves it. For all I care

she can go hang herself. Now Madame I bid you good day, for I have more important things to do

than sit hear and gossip with you." Erik hissed at Madame Giry, and with that he left in a huff. (He

huffed and He puffed and her blew the opera house down, sorry I couldn't help myself, again)

* * *

once again i would like to remind you to please review, and send in your names. Please Please send

in names...i want people to be active participants in this story...


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer/Authors Note**

**I DON'T OWN POTO ONLY ANDREW LLOYD WEBBER, GASTON LEROUX, AND SUSAN KAY, DO SO DON'T SUE. AGAIN I ALSO DON'T OWN BRENNA, SHE IS BASED LOOSELY OFF OF NORA ROBERTS CHARACTER FROM _JEWELS OF THE SUN, TEARS OF THE MOON, HEART OF THE SEA_**

(Ok the reason I have scenes from 2005 is because I want to show and kind of explain why she will

be able to get into either the Philharmonic Orchestra, or the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra…since

they only accept the best of the best. Also to show that she does have talent and is able to get into

the Opera's Orchestra **with out** the help of the Phantom (Erik). I also want to apologize if some of

the Paragraphs are messed up, since Fan fiction has a tendency to do that. So if you would like you

may e-mail me and I'll send the story as it is written in Word. No flames please, if you don't like it

don't read it. Constructive Criticism is welcomed, it helps us authors see what we can improve on.

**One more thing** I need a name for my main female character, the name can be of any origin I also

need two male names, also of any origin.

* * *

9/4/05

**Chapter 7: To Where You Are**

"Shoot, I'm going to be late, and not be able to catch the train to Paris! Yes the Philharmonic

Orchestra will be _so understanding_ when you call and say 'I was late and I missed the train, so I

won't be there for the audition, I hope that you'll still except me.' _Yea that would go over real _

_well_. I thought to my self as I ran (as fast as one can run with a duffle bag) to the boarding plat

form. I looked at my watch and saw that I had five minuets before the train started to board.

"Excuse me sir, is this the train headed to Paris?" I asked one of the coach men (not sure if that's

right) I needed to double check, because with everything else that had gone wrong this morning, I

did not need to board a train headed to God knows where.

"Yes miss, this train is headed for Paris."

"Thank you" I replied.

'Good. Now all I need to do is get on and find a seat. Perfect, an empty cabin (I think that's what

they are called) I'll be able to lay down on the seat and sleep if I want.' After I sat down I pulled out

my cd player and the book that I was currently reading Irish Hearts, two complete novels. By Nora 

Roberts. 'Come on play damnit, come on you little piece of…haha success is mine.' I smiled

triumphantly as I heard the dark and powerful organ start playing the Overture from Phantom Of

The Opera. After awhile of reading I began to grow sleepy, and decide to get some sleep before I

arrived in Paris. Sometime later I awoke to the sound of the coachmen yelling that we were to

arrive in Paris in a few moments. Once I got off the train I noticed that everyone was in what

appeared to be their Sunday best, but it was Friday. I suddenly felt very out of place in my jeans,

and Fresno State sweatshirt. The clothes that the women were wearing looked old fashioned,

almost like what they wore in the 1870's. Maybe it's a way to attract tourist I thought to my self,

but something inside me was telling me I wasn't "In Kansas anymore". I decide to shrug it off and

grab my bag, then try and find the person who was supposed to take me to the Paris Opera House

where other soon to be members of the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra were going to stay. But as I

scanned the crowds, that thought and feeling that I was no longer in the same era came back to me.

I shivered from the thought and the cold wind that started to blow, something just doesn't seem

right. Maybe someone here speaks English, I thought. But there in lies the problem, I hadn't

bothered to learn any French before I came here, because when I spoke to the conductors from the

Philharmonic they said that pretty much everyone spoke English. So unless somebody here knows

Sign Language, or English I'm screwed. 'Maybe the man standing over there can help me, I hope.'

"Excuse me Messieur, Parle Vo English?" (spelling? I don't speak French so if it is spelt wrong

please let me know the correct way of spelling it…)

'I really should have taken French instead of American Sign Language' I thought to my self. The

man looked startled and almost disgusted that I was even looking at him, let alone speaking to him.

He just walked away mumbling something under his breath and giving me dirty looks. I suppose

though that part of it was my brutal butchering of his native language, but still it wasn't as if I was

a common whore trying to seduce him, I just wanted some information.

'Great now I'm lost, I don't know the language, I don't have a place to stay, it's freezing out

here, and it's snowing. What else can possibly go wrong?' All of a sudden I heard people

screaming and shouting something, curious as to what the fuss was about I turned around in time

to see two horses almost on top of me, before everything went black.

* * *

once again i would like to remind you to please review, and send in your names. Please Please send

in names...i want people to be active participants in this story...


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer/Authors Note**

Disclaimer see first chapter...today is my 19th birthday, so i thought that i would be really nice to everyone, and post what i have written for this chapter so far...this is still the 1st roughdraft, meaning there is going to be more written, soon i promise...sorry it took so long...college is keeping me on my toes...anyways, i'm having fun with this chapter...i'm hopeing it will be the longest one...please rate and review!

HAPPY ST. PATRICKS DAY!

HAPPY 19TH BIRTHDAY TO ME! LOL

* * *

**Chapter 8: Once Upon A December**

**Brennas Point Of View:**

I heard voices, but I couldn't see anyone, everything was pitch black. I tried to move my limbs but I

couldn't. What was going on? Flashes of a train, a strange man looking at me disgusted look before

walking away, people screaming, the carriage. I had been ran over by an out of control carriage, but

why could I hear voices, but not able to open my eyes, use my voice, or move my limbs? What's

wrong with me, why can't I move anything? Am I dying?…

_Our father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. They will be done, on _

_earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses, as we _

_forgive those who trespass against us._

**Carriage Drivers point of view:**

I don't understand what spooked the horses to the point that they felt they needed to run for their

lives. I couldn't control them no matter how much I pulled on the reins; the parking break had

already broken off, I was shouting at everyone to move out of the way. Up ahead was a person

standing in the direct path of the carriage, I shouted at them to move, as we were quickly

approaching them. Why weren't they taking heed of my warnings? Were they Deaf, or did they have

a death wish?

A sudden realization hit me, if anyone were to die by my hands I would be out of business.

The next thing I knew there was a sickening thump-thump, as the out of control carriage ran over

something, or more likely someone. The horses finally stared to slow down, and I was finally able

to get them under control once again, but it was already too late. I had already most likely killed

someone, all because of these damn horses! I jumped down off the carriage and went to check on

the passenger. Luckily he was ok, and surprisingly was not angry at me for loosing control, after I

had quickly explained to him what had happened. He was angry at the person who had gotten in our

way, for he was a rich man and did not need some persons death to shame his name. We quickly

discussed our options, and soon came to an agreement, we would put on an act of being concerned

for the person, and put them in the carriage and drive off and dump that person somewhere, seeing

as they were probably already dead. We made our way through the crowd, he and I knelt down next

to the poor young woman, she was alive, but barley, and would not survive the night with out

medical attention, but neither of us could risk shaming our names. We picked the woman up and

took her to the carriage and pretended to be taking her to the doctors, when in reality we were going

to go dump her some where in a dark ally and leave.

**Brenna's point of view**

What were they saying? I really should have taken French, but what does it matter now? If I am

dying then it won't matter if I know French or not, for I heaven there is no need for language. Wait,

where are you taking me? I wanted to ask who ever was moving me. I don't know how much time

had passed, but it seemed like forever. I kept trying to open my eyes, or move something, anything

to get someone's attention, but to no prevail. But quite suddenly I grew sleepy, I tried to fight it, but

soon it over came me, and everything that was, becameno more.

_And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, and power, _

_and the glory, for ever and ever. Amen._

* * *

...hmmm...so what do you think? please let me know asap...when i get the chance to check my e-mail i will...again Happy St. Patricks Day...

Kiss me i'm Irish...(well not really)


	9. Runaway

**I DON'T OWN POTO ONLY ANDREW LLOYD WEBBER, GASTON LEROUX, AND SUSAN KAY, DO SO DON'T SUE. AGAIN I ALSO DON'T OWN BRENNA, SHE IS BASED LOOSELY OFF OF NORA ROBERTS CHARACTER FROM _JEWELS OF THE SUN, TEARS OF THE MOON, HEART OF THE SEA_**

(Ok the reason I have scenes from 2005 is because I want to show and kind of explain why she will be able to get into either the Philharmonic Orchestra, or the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra…since they only accept the best of the best. Also to show that she does have talent and is able to get into the Opera's Orchestra **with out** the help of the Phantom (Erik). I also want to apologize if some of the Paragraphs are messed up, since Fan fiction has a tendency to do that. So if you would like you may e-mail me and I'll send the story as it is written in Word. No flames please, if you don't like it don't read it. Constructive Criticism is welcomed, it helps us authors see what we can improve on.

* * *

**Runaway**

_Dum, dum, dum, honey what have you done?  
_

_Dum, dum, dum it's the sound of my gun.  
_

_Dum, dum, dum, honey what have you done?  
_

_Dum, dum, dum it's the sound_

**(Brenna's POV) **Pain, that one word held new meaning in it for me. All over was pain, what had happened to me? Where was I going, more importantly who was I? This was strange why couldn't I remember who I was; did I even have a name?

'Wow! Look at the snowflakes and how pretty it is' I thought to my self. Suddenly I shivered from the cold. A sudden urge to get up and seek shelter came to me, instinct started to take over all other thoughts that I had. My mind was telling me that if I didn't seek shelter soon I would most likely die. So I gathered what I was assuming were my things and slowly started to walk in a random direction. At first the going was tough the pain kept washing over me in huge waves, I wasn't able to walk very fast because my right ankle was not able to support much weight at all for some reason, but then the longer I was on my feet the less pain there seemed to be. Maybe the injuries from where ever I had obtained them weren't as life threatening as I had originally thought. I rounded what seemed to be the corner of a building, and to my relief there were doors, and doors led inside, and inside were bound to be someone who could help me! I thought to my self. I knocked on the first door I could reach. knock, knock, knock

I heard the door slowly opening, and I was not expected for the sight that welcomed me. Inches from my face was what appeared to be some kind of hand gun, and the owner glaring daggers at me, if looks could kill I would have been dead.

_Janie's got a gun  
_

_Janie's got a gun  
_

_Her whole world's come undone  
_

_From lookin' straight at the sun  
_

_What did her daddy do?  
_

_What did he put you through?  
_

_They said when Janie was arrested  
_

_they found him underneath a train  
_

_But man, he had it comin' Now that Janie's got a gun  
_

_she ain't never gonna be the same._

"Excuse me messieur? I mean no harm, I'm just looking for a place to stay for the night" I tried to explain, to prove that I meant no harm I raised my hands, palms facing him, up to the side of my face.

The man then shouted something in French and thrust the gun further in my face. I got his point, and slowly started to back away.

"I'm sorry messieur to have bothered you. _Thanks for your hospitality_" I said. This was pretty much the same reaction I got every time I knocked on someone's door, well not the gun part, but the rudeness.

'One last door can't hurt me can it?' I thought to my self. Knock, knock, knock

"Oui?" the man asked me looking at me.

"Messieur, umm non French…" 'Great how am I going to explain I need help to him if he doesn't know English…use ASL'

"…You speak English oui?"

"Non." The man replied.

"_Ok, I hope you understand me. I need house stay in for the night. I wounded. I pay you money for me staying here" _I signed to the man. All of a sudden he opened up his door and gestured me to come in, when I was inside he shut the door and slid the lock into place. I gulped, I was starting to get a bad feeling. But brushed it off, for I couldn't believe my luck finally someone was kind enough to help…I stopped mid thought when I saw where I was, or what I saw. Women and little girls who were in scantly clad clothes and cages; like they were some kind of animals. Some were deformed; others were somewhat normal looking, with small exceptions. One girl was turned side ways was almost as skinny as a pole. There was a bed in one of the cages, and it looked like there was a naked man and women in it. I suddenly realized where I was, some typed of whore house. In the corner of the room seated at a table were other men. These men however were burly and rough looking. I became very afraid for my life right then, and decided that I had to get out of there. Just then the men who were at the table rose up and started walking towards me, I started to back up towards the door, when I bumped into the man who had let me in, he grabbed my arms and pinned them down to my side. I started to struggle, when a rough hand grabbed my chin and roughly pulled my face still. One of the men form the table I had seen a few moments ago was the one who was in front of me. He turned my head from side to side, and muttered something in French to his comrades. When he lessened his grip on my face just slightly I drew back my head from his face and bit his hand, instantly two things happened, one there was a metallic taste in my mouth (blood) and then a shard blow to my head, which rendered me sense less for a few moments. I shook my head to clear the stars from my vision and stomped on my holders foot as hard as I could, I then elbowed him in the gut, hit him palm up on his nose, I think I broke it for I heard a crack, a scream and then there was blood flowing freely, and lastly kicked him in the groin. (10 bonus points to who ever can tell men what the acronymis abd where it came form, hint it was a movie, she was and under cover cop…)

_Janie's got a gun  
_

_Janie's got a gun  
_

_Her whole world's come undone  
_

_From lookin' straight at the sun  
_

_What did her daddy do?  
_

_What did he put you through?  
_

_They said when Janie was arrested  
_

_they found him underneath a train  
_

_But man, he had it comin' Now that Janie's got a gun  
_

_she ain't never gonna be the same._

I ran for the door, and tired to unlock it as fast as I could, but I wasn't fast enough. The man who I had bit had recovered enough to draw his pistol and aim it at me. I tried to think of something to use against him, anything, but I was panicking and couldn't think straight. He cocked the pistol and then for some reason I lunged at him and wrestled for the pistol, the pistol went off once or twice narrowly missing me, but finally I got the pistol away from him and without having another thought, I shot him in the head.

'Oh my God, I just shot someone…shit how many of these guys are there?' I thought to my self. I tired the door again and managed to get it unlocked. I ran as fast as I could, and never looked back, only ahead. I had to find a hiding spot, or else these men where going to kill me or worse.

'There! Just a little further, God I hope it's big enough for me to fit in.' I thought to my self. I risked one look behind me and saw that the men weren't that far behind me, maybe hopefully, just far enough behind that I could slip into the little grate that led underneath that grand building (anyone care to guess what this building is?).

_Run away, run away from the pain yeah, yeah yeah yeah  
_

_Run away run away from the pain yeah yeah  
_

_yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah  
_

_Run away, run away, run, run away_

_Janie's got a gun  
_

_Janie's got a gun  
_

_Her dog day's just begun  
_

_Now everybody is on the run  
_

_What did her daddy do?  
_

_It's Janie's last I.O.U.  
_

_She had to take him down easy and put a bullet in his brain  
_

_She said 'cause nobody believes me. The man was such a sleeze._

_He ain't never gonna be the same.  
_

I had just managed to get all the way into my hiding spot when the men who had been chasing me ran past me and straight ahead. I breathed a sigh of relief, I decide to sit down and rest because I was starting to get dizzy. I slid down the wall, and put my hands to head in a prayer like fashon and thanked God that I escaped from those men. When I opened my eyes I saw red liquid on my hands. The pain that had been pushed aside in order to surivie returned full force, my vision began to swim. Just before I slipped into blissful blackness I thought I saw a shape out of the corner or my eye of black and white.

_Run away, run away from the pain yeah, yeah  
_

_yeah yeah yeah  
_

_Run away run away from the pain yeah yeah  
_

_yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah  
_

_Run away, run away, run, run away  
_

_Janie's got a gun  
_

_Janie's got a gun  
_

_Janie's got a gun  
_

_Everybody is on the run  
_

_Janie's got a gun  
_

_Her dog day's just begun  
_

_Now everybody is on the run  
_

_Because Janie's got a gun  
_

_Janie's got a gun  
_

_Her dog day's just begun  
_

_Now everybody is on the run  
_

_Janie's got a gun_

* * *

Wow! 6 pages, this has to be a record for me. First off I would like to say I'm sorry for not updating sooner, at first I just had to many ideas and needed to sort 

through them, then it was working 40+ hrs at work, and I kept thinking I've got to sit down and update. Well the day that I had planed to do that, we had to

put my dog to sleep, that was two weeks ago on Tuesday. So I've been dealing with the loss of her. So none the less I've updated, and this chapter is

completely different than what it was supposed to originally going to be. Janie's Got A Gun belongs to Areosmith, it's not mine, I only used it because it fits

pretty nicely in the story I think. Umm the story title this time isn't from a song, well there is a song called Runaway by The Corrs, but I'm not using that…so

here is the update, I expect at least 10 reviews. I realize that the style of writing might be somewhat different form the rest of the story, or how I've written in the

past. This chapter just literally came to me as I started to type…Enjoy…Ideas are always welcome


	10. Love Like Winter

**Disclaimer/Authors Note**

**I DON'T OWN POTO ONLY ANDREW LLOYD WEBBER, GASTON LEROUX, AND SUSAN KAY, DO SO DON'T SUE. AGAIN I ALSO DON'T OWN BRENNA, SHE IS BASED LOOSELY OFF OF NORA ROBERTS CHARACTER FROM _JEWELS OF THE SUN, TEARS OF THE MOON, HEART OF THE SEA_**

* * *

**Chapter 9: Love Like Winter**

_Warn your warmth to turn away_

_Here's it's December everyday, everyday_

(One Month Later)

Erik had just finished another book on the human mind, and he still could not find an answer to his problem. He sighed in frustration how was he going to be able to get that girl to remember her past, before she had come to him? This young woman he had found by the Rue Scribe entrance, unconscious, blood staining her skin that was as white as the snow around her. He still could not figure out where she had come from, her clothing was most unusual for a woman of any society for this time period. She had been wearing what appeared to be a type of breeches, but the fabric was nothing that he had seen before, she wore a strange outer coat, which was the color red and had an emblem of what appeared to be a bulldog with the words that were written in English "Fresno State Bulldogs" Was it some type of secret code he had originally thought, but now figured it to be something of great importance for it to be printed on the fabric. The oddest thing he found though, was when he was undressing the woman, to access how much damage her body had taken, was she did not wear a corset, instead something that just went across her chest and had two clasp in the back that kept her breast in place, and yet left her stomach to have all the breathing room it wanted.

Erik was interrupted from his thoughts when he heard slippers shuffling on the ground towards him, as he looked up he saw the young woman that he had been nursing back to health for the past month.

_Hello _the young women signed to him. Since she had awoken Erik had found out that besides memory loss, she had lost he ability to speak. She had written in English that she had been taught American Sign Language, and had written that she thought that might be easier then writing back and forth.

"Hello, how are you fairing today?"

_Fine _she replied. _Erik? Why you not let me go up why? _

"I do not understand exactly what you are trying to say blue eyes. You should not be out of bed, you are still not recovered, and we do not want anymore accidents now do we?"

_I sorry, I not know you have traps underground. I go back to bed now. _

He watched her walk away, still slightly limping from her broken ankle.

_Press your lips to the sculptors and surly you'll say love like winter_

_For sugar and ice I am made, I am made_

_It's in the blood, it's in the blood I met my love before I was born _

_He wanted love, I taste of blood_

_He bit my lip and drank my years of war_

_(Brenna's POV)_

'_Why can't I find a better way to communicate with him damnit? This is so frustrating I haven't even been here for very long and I have already pissed him off, by exploring his 'home' and opening the wrong door, how was I supposed to know it was a torture chamber? I mean it's not like it said ' Do Not Enter', also what else was I supposed to do? Just sit around and rot? I was bored. I guess I shouldn't have done that though, I know I wouldn't like it if someone just went exploring through my house. It would be nice if I could remember weather or not I had a home or not, I don't even remember who I am. How am I ever going to find out?_

* * *

Ok so i know that it has been forever since I last updated, I couldn't think of anything to write, and then while listening to AFI's Love Like Winter, it hit me. So I started typing. Erik does not know all of ASL, he can figure out most of it, but by no means is he able to communitce with signs. Since Brenna has had some scary stuff happen to her this is her bodys way of dealing with it. In the next chapter or two she will be talking again, and she may or may not be staying with Erik (the two of them haven't decied yet). Oh let me set something straight right now, they are NOT, friends yet. simply accepting each others company. He is not very fond of her being in his house. If you have any ideas please please please let me know by e-mailing me or put it in the review. Sorry it's short, if i get anymore ideas i'll post it. 


	11. Underground

I'm back! lol I have changed our female's name to Erin, I will go back and change it in the other chapters. This is the re-write I did of the last chapter, translations are at the bottom of the page!

* * *

"It's only forever  
Not long at all  
Lost and lonely  
That's underground  
Underground" –David Bowie Underground from Labyrinth

Erin sighed and tried to figure out an easier way of communicating with this Erik, but her patience was growing thin; ever since she had woken up here she was unable to understand exactly what this Erik wanted of her. He spoke in a language that she was unable to fully understand, for reasons still unexplainable, she understood bits and pieces of his words when he spoke to her, but not enough to make out what he was talking about. The only ways she was able to communicate with Erik was writing questions or comments on parchment in English (American English), or using hand gestures. Erin wished she knew how and why she was living underground with Erik, for some reason she was unable to remember anything before she came to reside with him. All she knew was that she had woken up to see a masked man laying a cool rag over her forehead, when he questioned her about where she came from, her strange style of clothing, and why she was down here, she had no answers for him. She could not even recall her name.

When Erin finally got up enough courage to ask this masked man his name, she asked it on parchment "_Jamapall?"_ She was unsure where that knowledge had came from, even the masked man, Erik, seemed surprised and asked "_Parla vou Francis mademosille? Ja mapell Erik.**" **_This phrase seemed so familiar to Erin, and yet she did not know why, as she say there in the bed pondering on the meaning of the phrase she suddenly received a flash back

Flash Back

"_Erin, Jamapall Danielle. Parler Francis?"_ A young girl who looked to be no more than fourteen or fifteen, she had blonde hair and blue eyes, in fact she looked similar to Erin.

"_Danielle, you know that I have no idea what you just asked me. Could you repeat that in English or even American Sign Language?"_

_"I said, Erin, my name is Danielle. Do you speak French?"_

"_O, so if I ever decide to go to France, how do I ask a person if they speak English?"_

End Flash Back

Erin took a moment to try and remember who that young women she had been speaking with was, and why she seemed so familiar. Danielle…Danielle…Danielle was her sister!

Erin smiled as she remembered that her sister had tried on many occasions to teach her some French, but Erin had always joked around with her sister saying that she was never going to need it, so why should she bother learning it? How wrong she had been. Erin then took the quill and parchment from where she had set them down on the bed and wrote, "_Je regretted mais (je re peux pas), Parlez vo anglais, oui?" _

"_Yes I speak English, what is your name?"_

Erin tried to remember her name, but she could not recall it. Surely she had to have a name did she not? Did not everyone have a name at one point in there lifetime? Erin picked up the quill and wrote to Erik.

"_What is in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet." -Shakespear Romeo and Juliet_

* * *

_ Parla vou Francis mademosille? Do you speak french madame?_

_ Ja Mapell Erik My name is Erik_

_Je regrette mains (je re peux pas) Parla vo anglais, oui?" no i'm sorry I do not speak French, do you speak English?_

Ok so I know it took me awhile, I wanted the re-write to be good...The french I used was out of my sisters French book, if any part of it is wrong please let me know and I will go back and finish it. I was really debateing about wethere or not to end the chapter here, but I think it works ok, I 've already started the next chapter. THe next chapter is kinda tricky becasue I don't want to use a bunch of deatails that I do not need to describe how she got her voice and her memories back, if nayone has ideas let me know please! Oh and one more thing i'm still trying to deceide if I should kill off Bruqet or not...so as usual let me know please! Your comments and Ideas are always welcome. One last thing, I promise (Erik buts in, "You alwasy say that") Hey who asked you? Go away!, anways I left the orginal chapter up so you can compare and/or contrast the two chapters. THANKS AGAIN!!


	12. Chapter 12

Erin slammed her fist up against the wall she was leaning up-on, she was lost, she was completely and utterly lost, oh Erik was just going to be so thrilled with her when he found out that she had snuck out of the underground cavern, and stolen one of his cloaks. Oh yes Erik was going to be extremely thrilled with her. Erin tried to keep her emotions in check, but as of right now she was failing, yet again, so she might as well put another check in the column of failure. Why did it seem that everything here was going wrong since the minute she stepped off the stupid train? First it was that she wasn't "properly dressed" according to the locals, what did they know anyways? Secondly she was run over most likely by a drunken driver, she had lost her voice, Erik was pissing her off more and more every day, and to top it all off she was lost. Erin was just about to give up all hope when she heard voices coming towards her.

"Don't worry about it, just get her alone and go for it, trust me you'll easily overpower her. Bring her down here, no one will be able to hear you, or her. No one, that I know of ever comes down here, and that's why I hide my stash here. I don't have to worry about anyone findin' it."

"You really think so? I never thought about it like that, I can already picture her under me, beggin'…"

When Erin first heard the voices she started walking towards them, but after the last comment she decided against it, they didn't sound like the type of men that she wanted to get help from, but then again she had heard one of the men say that no one comes down here. Maybe she should just follow them out. "Yes, that's what I'll do, and then no one will have known I was down here." Erin thought to herself.

Erin poked her little head around the corner of the wall that she was leaning up against. She was now very curious about the two men that were down here. The one who was nearest to her was a burly man, with shoulder length hair that needed a good brushing, as it was sticking every which way. In all Erin thought that he looked to be about fifty (this is just a little bit above the average age back in the 1700's and 1800's. The average age was forty five according to what I found on google.) The other man looked to be much younger, maybe around thirty. He was a little bit better groomed than the other man, and did not appear to have a beard. Erin decided that she wanted a better look at these two men, so as in order to better avoid them in the future. Erin slowly and as quietly as she could and crept closer to the two men, and hide behind a painting, which looked like it had seen better days. The painting was shredded towards the top, and when Erin held the pieces up she was surprised at what she was looking at. The painting was of a young handsome man, his eye's looked so familiar, and yet Erin couldn't put her finger on where she had seen those breath taking blue eyes before.

The men seemed uneasy and kept looking around almost as if they were excepting someone, or maybe something, to attack them.

"Corbett, let's get out of here, this place is giving me the creeps, The Phantom could be lurking anywhere down here." Said Bayard.

"Oh shut yer trap Bayard, if the Phantom was here he would have already attacked us, now come over here and help me carry this rum back up to Buquet and the rest of the men." Said Corbett.

The men then proceeded to take what they wanted from their stash, and just as they were about to close the door on their stash they heard a loud crash from behind the crates to their left.

* * *

Ok ok I know you can all shoot me for takeing forever to get this next chapter up. My excuse I just didn't really feel like posting anything (sorry)... Well I just want to give a quick thanks to my new beta reader Caroline you rock! ... I've had a few idea for the next chapter, but would like everyones ideas about what should happen! 


	13. Who Painted The Moon Black?

Alright so here is the long over due next chapter of At Your Side. I am very very very sorry for it taking sooo long, school, and writers block were and still are an issue. I wanted to make this chapter much longer but due to writers block I figured I would just post this to give everyone something to read. As usuall I don't own anything, well I own Erin, but nothing else. The ballet mentioned in here is true to the time period, the song isn't but I thought it fit. Flames are stupid and will be ignored, if you don't like the story, don't read it and don't review, just leave! I want to thank my Beta reader for pointing out to me that it's The Paris Opera House and not the Opera Populair, hehe... well on with the show, wait in the past the format has been screwed up by so if it does that again, please pm me and I will e-mail you the doc.

* * *

At Your Side Chapter 13 "Who Painted the Moon Black?" 

Madame Giry sighed in frustration while she massaged her temples; her girls were far too chatty this morning and therefore not giving their all in the routine, morning warm up at the barre. Finally having enough, Madame Giry slammed her cane down on the floor of the Paris Opera's ballet practice room. The pianist, who had been playing a simple melody for the ballet rats, stopped playing immediately. The ballet rats became silent at the sound of the cane slamming down, and the music slowly fading away. They then turned their attention to their instructor.

"Girls! Last time I checked, warming up did not evolve talking. We have just under a month to learn the routine to La Sylphide (1). Need I remind any of you that this is to be a big production for the opera, and that there will be many important political figures attending who might donate a large sum of money to help ensure the running of our beloved opera house? Since it seems we have extra energy this morning, we will be extending our warm up for an additional hour."

"But Madame, we have already been at the barre (2) for two hours today! Surely we have warmed up enough to start learning our routines!" Danielle, one of the ballet rats, exclaimed.

"Ladies, you can now thank Mademoiselle Danielle for your additional two hours at the barre. Does anyone have anything else they would like to express their opinions about? Non? Bien, then we continue. I want to see eight counts of tendu plies en qua souttenu and repeat, sixteen counts of rond de jambe en qua, souttenu, eight counts of developes en qua, souttenu, rise up en pointe and remain en pointe until I give you a release. Does everyone understand? I will repeat it once more for you: eight counts of tendu plies en qua souttenu and repeat, sixteen counts of rond de jambe en qua, souttenu, eight counts of developes en qua, souttenu, rise up en pointe and remain en pointe until I give you a release (2b). Monsieur Heaney, when you are ready you may start," Madame Giry explained to her girls.

* * *

After the extra hours of practice, Madame Giry deemed the ballet troupe competent enough to release them for the afternoon meal, having told them that when they were returned, they were to be prepared to start working on the combinations for _La Sylphide_. The ballet troupe had wandered off stage with low grumbles as to how unfair their Ballet Mistress was treating them. Madame Giry sighed heavily. If the girls did not pull it together and start putting forth some effort, then this production was not going to work. Madame Giry decided that she should head down to the old costume and prop storage room to see if she could not find a few props from previous opera's and ballet performances that they might be able to use in _La Sylphide_, so that they might save a few francs for upcoming productions, she thought as she wandered down the halls towards the room.

As she was making her way to the old storage room, her mind started to wander to earlier times, times when she had been a young woman sneaking down these corridors to be with the man she had loved. She closed her eyes as the memory took over her.

_It was the middle of the night - the only time they could come together - for he not only would not venture out in the day, but he physically could not, he had told her, because he had appearances during the day that he had to keep up. She naively had believed him. They had always cared for each other, ever since the night she met him at the dance; however, until recently, these feelings of tenderness, and longing to be with him, had yet to appear._

Somewhere from deep within the memory Antoinette Giry started to sing a song she had sung once before.

"_Did you see the shiny moon? Turned into a black balloon, just as you walked away from me. Did you see how hard I've tried? Not to show the pain inside, just as you walked away from me? _

She had tried so very, very hard to keep the love that he had once had for her, as he claimed, but in the end, it was because of her station that kept him from loving her. Tears filled her eyes and threatened to spill over as the memory continued.

_Who painted the moon black? Just when you passed your love back, who painted the moon black? Oh, won't you come back? _

She had begged and pleaded with him to come back to her. She couldn't understand why he would choose someone else over her when they claimed to be in love with each other.

_It must have been the darkest night, not even a star in sight, just as you walked away from me, now. Who painted the moon black? Just when you passed your love back, who painted the moon black? Oh won't you, won't you come back? _

Still to this day, she wished he would come back to her, help her take care of her during her pregnancy, help her through the dark days after she had lost their child in a miscarriage. The moon that night had been a new moon and ironically been "black" the night he left her. She still thought of him even after all the pain he caused her.

_Who painted the moon black? Just when you passed your love back, who painted the moon black? Oh won't you, won't you come back?'Please, please let him come back to me!' s_he had begged who ever might have been listening to her. But he never did. Never did he send her a letter saying that he was sorry, or that she should move on and find someone worthy of her love because it broke his heart that they could not be together.

_Who painted the moon black? Just when you passed your love back, who painted the moon black? Oh won't you, won't you come back? Did you see the shiny moon? Turned into a black balloon, just as you walked away from me.(2)"_

He had wounded her heart and soul, that at night she would cry her-self to sleep, and the only person that heard or cared was Erik.

The memory slowly faded and she realized that she was almost to her destination. She sighed deeply and willed the memory to be locked away again. That had been many years ago, and she was a grown woman with children to look after.

Antoinette never had any children of her own. The doctors had given her the news after she miscarried; however, a few years later, her little Megan, or Meg as she was called by her peers, was born. She had lain with a young man who she had rescued from a traveling gypsy circus. It had been a single night of passion, both of them knowing that when morning came, they would go their separate ways. A few weeks later, she had started to become ill in the mornings, and noticed that her cycle was late. Growing up in the opera house, she had seen and heard many things from the women and girls that lived there, including sex, pregnancies, death, and other things. But because she had been told she would never have children, she thought nothing of it when she was late and was becoming ill in the mornings. When the symptoms did not go away, she went to the doctors, and they informed her that in eight to nine months she would be a proud mother. Madame Giry was shocked at the news, but never told the young man that he had a daughter. They had agreed that night that there would be no strings attached to the coupling, and that they were to continue on with pretending that he did not exist. However, when extra money and supplies for her child started appearing, she guessed that he had figured out that the child she carried was his. The rest of her girls were in the _ballet de corp _(3)_, _but they looked up to her as a mother type figure, and she was happy enough to fill the role. However, her musings were cut short as she neared the storage room, and she heard voices that seemed to be coming from inside the room.

"It has to be 'im, the Phantom of The Opera!" a rough male voice exclaimed from the other side of the door.

'_That sounds like Bayard, and where ever Bayard is, Corbett is usually around as well. These men are always up to no good, wreaking havoc on those around them. Just last week I found them harassing Nicole from the chorus; the poor dear was shaking with fright when I came across the scene. Whatever they are doing down here cannot be a good thing. If Erik is indeed in there, he is capable of taking care of himself; however, he has saved my daughter's life on more than one occasion when she was younger and getting herself into trouble more often that naught_ (She felt that she owed Erik both her life and her daughter's life) [4],' Madame Giry thought to herself as she paused in her tracks. '_I do need to get into the room and take a look about anyways, and I have no need to fear these men, for they are cowards when confronted, and I have my cane with me if I need to defend myself._'

Madame Giry continued towards the door and as she opened the door, her suspicions were confirmed when she saw the two men's expressions when they saw her enter the room - that of a child whose hand was caught in the cookie jar.

She made a quick survey of the room, trying to see if she could spot where Erik might be hiding. She also looked to see if anyone else might be lurking in the shadows, hiding among the boxes of props from the different operas over the years. Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw not men hiding in the shadows, but Erik's ward, Erin, huddled in a corner off to her left; she was hidden among the costumes that were piled on top of a box. When Erin's eyes met hers, Erin put her finger to her pursed lips, indicating that she wished Madame Giry to be silent about her location and her presence, most likely.

'_What is she doing here, and where is Erik? He has never left her alone before above his domain without supervision_.'

"Madame Giry! You gave us such a fright because for a moment we thought you were the ghost!" Corbett exclaimed, putting his hand over his heart, as if trying to calm it and himself.

"Indeed. Gentlemen, is there something you need from down here, or are you once again skirting around your duties?

* * *

In text notes:

1. La Sylphide is a real ballet that was first performed at the Paris Opera House on March 12, 1832. It was produced by Fhilippo Taglioni as a show case for his daughter Marie. The music was by Jean-Madeleine Schneitzhoeffer. The story is about a young man who is to be married, a sprite, and of course an evil witch. The young and naïve man is awestruck by this beautiful sprite that he can-not grab a hold of. The sprite steals his wedding ring and fly's off into the forest where the young man asks the evil witch to help him catch this sprite, she gives him a scarf and tells him to wrap it around the sprite and he will then be able to hold her. The scarf is spelled and when it has gone around the sprites shoulders she loses her wings and dies. They young man is so heartbroken that he dies as well. His original wife to be and his best friend are seen leaving the alter where they have just been married and are running through the forest. It is considered a romantic ballet, and you can view it on youtube if you so wish to. I will warn you that it is about a three hour ballet, but it is very well done and the music and costumes are beautiful. For more information on this ballet please go to your local library, take a dance history class, or google it.

2. This idea about Erik saving little Meg, sadly is not mine. I read it on the site somewhere but don't remember who said it, so I am saying this here and now it's not mine! If you are the author of that story/idea please let me know so I can give you the proper credit

3. Tendu plies: stretch out the leg and then a small bend in the knee, touch and close.

En Qua: simply means front, side, back, side (in this case 8 to the front, side, back, and side once more)

"Souttenu" en tourant: a turn on two legs

Rond de jambe: Literally "round of the leg" a half circle drawn with the foot, front side and then reverse

Developes en qua: a gradual unfolding of the leg, extending slowly into the air. Front, side, back, side and close

En pointe : literally "on pointe" balancing on the tips of the toes

For more information and videos of all these moves please visit the American Ballet Theater website at .

Pic of Erin: .


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